


When You Whistle

by Tyellas



Category: The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Bathtub Sex, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lingerie, Mild Angst, Oral Sex, Romance, Slime, Spoilers, Stockings, Teratophilia, a little incidental rimming, body fluids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyellas/pseuds/Tyellas
Summary: A maybe-jealous amphibian man and a hasty bathtub plunge in nylon stockings combine for an unforgettable afternoon.





	When You Whistle

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: this is set immediately after the events in another fic of mine, the genfic [Art and Science](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13306329), where Dr. Hoffstetler comes to check up on the creature at Elisa's flat. Briefly, as you'll see...

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Elisa had been nervous enough that Sunday afternoon. She’d asked Dr. Hoffstetler, the helpful Occam scientist, to visit her rooms. She’d wanted to be certain that the creature was doing all right.

She’d prepared. She’d tidied up as best she could with a fishman living in her bathroom. She’d dressed neatly. Suddenly she was aware of every floor scrape and ceiling leak. When Hoffstetler had arrived, she’d tried to be clear so that the doctor could say if she was doing anything wrong. He was smart enough to understand her signs and showing, and she seemed to be doing all right.

Unfortunately, the creature had remembered Dr. Hoffstetler, and not fondly. When the creature’s snarls of dislike deepened into a roar, the nervous doctor had made a hasty exit. Thank goodness Giles is helping, chatting to the doctor for a while out there.

Elisa still has a dilemma. The creature is now stuck in front of her apartment door. He has his shoulders braced, every fin spread, like he is on guard. Any moment now, he’ll have problems breathing in the air. But he isn’t moving. This once, Elisa is having a hard time figuring out what he is thinking.

_His thoughts are, as they need to be in this strange place, painfully clear. She does not understand. That one, who emerged from the bad cave, has left behind his white skin-coat, but he is still what he is. Weak. Treacherous. Hiding in himself. Giving in to the stronger ones around him, always. Often, Elisa is the strongest. In the bad cave, the strongest one had been the torturer, the lamprey – the one who taught him time. Now that he knows time, he sees how the weak one’s fear resonates through existence. It has been in the past, it will be in the future. That one will betray again._

Elisa jumps at a knock on the door. The creature growls. “Only me,” says a smooth man’s voice. Giles! Elisa nips forwards and peeks out the door. Her friend looks bemused. He has a tweed jacket on. If Elisa didn’t know better, she’d say he was blushing a little.

“You were right, Elisa. He’s good people, that one. We had a chat. He said I’m a classicist!” Giles chuckles at the idea, obviously pleased. “He’s on his way, said you’d see him at work tonight. I was thinking of running out for a bit. Do you need anything?” Elisa gives him a brittle smile and shakes her head, no. “I’ll leave you kids to it, then.”

Elisa blows him a kiss. Then, she locks and bolts the door on him. Turning to the creature, she points at the locks. All this gets her is a marine _harrumph_ and a little resettling. He begins to wheeze. If he doesn’t get back in the water now, he’ll be in pain soon, and she can barely stand to see it. On a whim, she goes and stands in the bathroom door. Elisa hikes up her skirt over one leg, all the way up to show her stocking top, and whistles twice.

_Giles had been calm, unafraid. Happy. Being between Giles’ and Elisa’s energy unruffles his fins. Safety returns to the air. And she does one of her amazing displays – making one of her sweet, rare sounds and baring a dancing limb. If those extra skins she wears are coming off, he wants to be there. Yet she still doesn’t understand. Weighed down by it all, he goes to the water-nest to wait for her._

Thank goodness, he’s going in. His moving around has already sloshed a quarter of the water out of the bath. But he brushes right past her and dunks himself in the waiting tub, head at the tap end, where it’s deepest. His arms cross over his chest. His eyes are closed. His knees, absurdly, stick up out of the water. She catches the gleam of one of his eyes. It vanishes. Then, he tightens his arms and utters another burbling _harrumph_. Is he…sulking? Could he be jealous? The idea of anyone being jealous on her behalf is entirely new.

Just as Elisa’s heart melts, a huge, wet hand eels from the tub, wraps around her calf. Water instantly saturates that leg’s seamless stocking. Oh – well – why not. Giles is out and it isn’t even three in the afternoon, yet. She lets his hand stay where it is as she takes off clothes. At home, Elisa doesn’t bother with a girdle. Soon, all that’s left are her panties, garters and the nylon stockings. She hangs her clothes on the door, tucks her shoes (black patent, they seemed serious) on top of the sink.

There’s a deep, disturbed noise from the tub. The whole point of this is to calm him down. So Elisa slides herself into the tub immediately, already-wet nylons, garters, and all. With his legs canted up, there’s enough room for her.

He stays where he is, not turning around to lie next to her. She’s relieved that he’s relaxed enough to give in to a good sulk instead of more anger or fear. And it’s maybe a little bit funny, him pouting, arms crossed. _All is good_ , Elisa signs. Delicately, she stretches a leg out beside him.

_Elisa is always good. She is keeping her promise. She is giving him the limb she offered. A (he thinks of her hand sign) leg. Her leg is different today. There is a skin on the limb but it is translucent, like storm water. It makes her limb dark, like his, smoother than ever, silt-soft. Her tiny foot, inside the sheer skin, is pointed, delicate as a hoof. He slides one hand over each contour. Her flashing ankle, her first offering to him. The turns and ligaments of her knee. At her thigh, the part she only shows to him, there is a maddening border. The sheer-skin gives way, with a final bite, to bare, warm flesh. The baffling, enticing contrast swamps him._

Elisa is poised breathlessly. She watches the contrast of their very different bodies. Through the wet nylon, her leg is teased by scaled muscles. The creature’s clawed fingers have worked his way along her stockinged leg with impossible slowness, never catching or snagging once. Now his finger-pads and claw-tips are taunting the top of that one thigh, tracing over and under her garter straps. His hand stops for a full minute, its cool breadth cupping three-quarters of her thigh, around the stocking top. Then he starts again, his touch meditative. Her stockinged leg is his new favorite toy. Caressing it, he’s as calm as she was hoping he would be, ten minutes ago.

She, on the other hand, is losing her mind.

_Time is sensed again, this time as a pleasure. Change unfolds new sensations. Her limb trembles, pulsing with warmth. Her fragrance unfurls richly in the water. At last, he opens his eyes, takes in the miracle of her sheer-netted toes beside his face. It makes him hunger for more. He knows she will let him claim it. He wants…her other leg._

For all the fierce pulse between her thighs, making her squirm in her soaked panties, Elisa is hesitating. It is the first time she’s held back from the creature when they are this close, she is this nude. But she’s thinking. After Hoffstetler’s visit, she is shy of how she touches him. She does not want to remind him of what the scientists did. Perhaps, right now, this divine petting session is all he needs. He is definitely not erect.

Very suddenly, the creature’s arms stretch. He relents into lighting up, blue phosphorescence racing under his skin in lines.  He doesn’t have to lift his shoulders from the water to grab her hips and fold her up to kneeling. He’s got both of her thighs, one in each hand, and he slides her to him, up past his lean hips and his dancer’s waist, to perch her bottom on his broadening chest. Elisa’s upper body reels. She catches herself with one hand on the tiled wall, the front of the tub.

_His favorite part of Elisa is all of her, whatever has his attention: expressive face, silken hair, flying hands. Now her legs are on each side of his head. They deafen him, and he submits to that. The wet sheer-skins are smooth, sliding over her legs. With her legs secure around him, another lovely part of her awaits. He exhales and inhales deeply, and cannot help crooning. Having her close about him in this new way is a wonder. Is the best._

Tickled by the resonance of his chest underneath her, by his gills’ flaring, Elisa jerks and braces against the wall again. She peeps down and just about dies. They’re still blending more than usual, thanks to her dark stockings and the aqua garter and panty set. Her pinkish thighs are as pale, if different in hue, as his light chest-scaling. His beautiful, ferocious head is between her spread thighs. His mouth is slightly open: she can see the strange ivory edges of his teeth.

She gives into herself. With two fingers, she slides her aqua nylon panties to one side. The dark tuft of hair she exposes is slick to her own touch. She angles her hips down into the water, shallow over his face. His mouth is right there. Three inches away. Is he going to? It's up to him.

He is.

_Her (again, a graceful hand sign in his mind) cunt. His mouth. Together. He tastes her the way she is always tasting him, pressing her mouth against him, and he understands, now. Against his mouth she is iron, and musk, and orchid. This small span of her, made for mating, feels like him, slides and grows wet. He shifts her and opens his chest gills fully. With breathing delegated, he can focus on her. Her deepening taste sustains him in a hundred ways._

One or two of Elisa’s past pick-ups had tried this on her, acting like it was the world’s greatest favor. She hadn’t thought much of it. Like everything with her amazing creature, this is on another plane of experience entirely. Elisa watches, feels, and is lost.

His mouth didn’t look that wide. But it feels like it has unhinged a bit, the way his face is wedged around her crotch. A quick glimpse shows that his tongue, like his chest-plates, unlike his cock, is pale. It’s thick and coarse, more nubbled than a cat’s.  And that tongue is going everywhere between her legs, without shame. She can’t tell if he’s slimy or has saliva there, if he has awareness of her subtler parts or not. She is so wet and swollen, shameless herself. Elisa puts both hands against the wall to rock herself against his face. He, in turn, cups his huge, webbed hands against her behind, idly catching one garter strap with a claw. The little scratch of it makes Elisa gasp. Then, something else does.

He’s pressing that tongue against her opening, dabbling inside her. Her clit is tickled by his upper lip. His lower lip is – oh God – his lower lip shouldn’t be _there!_ But it all feels wonderful.

_Exploring her flesh, he is home. A hunger to see these parts lights and fades in the same instant. Touch brings him so much, sensuous coarse fur and smoothness, slips and swells and openings. His tongue learns that her smallest nub of flesh, like an orchid’s anther, is the key to her nectar. The more he tastes that, the more musky and warm and beautiful she is._

Elisa curls her fingers to claws between the tiles. His grip tightens around her hips and bottom, and his tongue slides out and up. Just that bit higher, where she needs it to be. That tongue. She rocks her whole body forwards onto his open mouth, desperately rolling her hips for more. His tongue flattens out just a touch and it’s perfect. She’s there. Elisa can’t sign. She can’t think. All she can do is come, and come, and come.

_He’d learned, when her legs first opened for him, why he’d needed a mate shaped like himself. This tasting matches that penetration in bliss. And unlike shared mating, their delicious connection does not need to end. Her pleasure resonates in him, wave upon wave. Time is lost._

Elisa’s reached the point where his mouthing so good it’s almost painful. Plus, there’s a chilly poke against her waistline – she’s leaned onto the faucet-shower apparatus. It brings her back to herself. She shakes herself upright, blinking. She still feels hot and wild, half-satisfied. She peers over her shoulder, to see how he’s doing, and impish inspiration strikes.

As she shifts, the creature slides his hands away to let her move. She turns her whole body, in a quick dancer’s set. One knee over him, both knees together, spin around, knee apart-and-over, boom! She’s right where she was, perched over his face. But turned the other way around.

_There was one bereft instant when she shifted. Now he is alight with new wonder. From this angle, her thighs are smoother, fleshier. The second-skin apparatus sheathing her is more stretched. It is more. Something’s sparkling in her; not her pleasure, but her intent. He senses energy mustering in her. She is going to do a different thing. A thing! He breathes, re-opening his throat gills, arcing his body up to her in offering.  
_

Turned about, Elisa contemplates his hips under the water, feels his spine flex like steel, lifting both of them. His hips and thighs breach the water's surface, just. He’s not…erect. Or released. But the pouch of paired fins that contains his sex organ is translucent, straining. Elisa dares to strokes it, oh so lightly. In the blink of an eye, he is unsheathed.  That’s all it took? Suddenly, she understands: her touch means that much. He never will approach her unless she wants it, and shows him by touching him. She sighs, silently, moved.

Then, Elisa’s mouth quirks. She reaches out, slides her fingers along the length of his shaft. Brushing the half-inch slit on the tip’s underside, she strokes the ample fluid oozing there down, and down. It takes her hand, and a good deal of her forearm, to caress the pulsing, greenish length fully. His tounge’s pad presses against her from behind, encouraging her. She opens her thighs more and braces her toes, then her left arm, against the sides of the tub. She licks her lips in preparation. How much of it can she handle, this way? She leans over to find out, eager to ease him.

_He should feel threatened, his defenceless shaft at the mercy of her teeth and probing hands. Yet she will never hurt him. The first lap of her tongue is a star of bliss. Two connections link them now. Her body and being are still wrapped around his head, filling his senses. He burrows his chin up into her unending wetness and lets her drink his fluids._

Her tongue flutters over his cock’s length, irresistibly drawn to the strange, tempting head of it. Something in the fluid she laps up there tickles her mouth. It soothes away the heavier brine of the salt water they lie in, but it gives her a new itch. A yearning only satisfied by sealing her mouth around him and feeling him fill her throat. Her head whirls. She forgets to gag. Behind her, he is lapping slowly, not distracting, building up with her. She draws her head back a bit, sucks forwards again. The angle works beautifully.

_Now her mouth. Has him. Inside. Tasting him. Tasting him again. Her licking, her sucking, it’s so good…her throat pulses… she draws back, returns… seals her mouth…her mouth her tongue her wet…so good good good_

Below Elisa, he’s stiff and twitching, just holding his mouth against her cunt, keeping them together. It’s her turn to work. She sucks him until she’s dizzy with half-drowned breathlessness. He’s so close, arcing up and gasping underneath her. A trio (!) of his intimate veins pulse against her lower lip. His shaft has tightened all over, the tip is piercingly hard against her tongue. She lavishes him with her lips and throat, with as much saliva as she can. He needs it wet. And she loves him, loves him, loves him –

_His entire body coils, every muscle vibrating. The intensity is blinding. His silent moves beg her to take it from him, drain him, let him fill her, take his bliss, the joy, connection, TOGETHER. She opens everything, her legs for his face, her throat for him. She is ecstasy. She has him_

_now_

She wants him to come in her mouth. She’s scared of it, too. It’s so much, when he does. But the first shot of it takes him when she’s got his shaft deep, and swallowing comes naturally. Three swallows, then she needs to breathe. She releases him, feels his sweet-salt milt fill her mouth and spill out. Gasping, she loses him, only to seize him in her hand for a final stroke. His last spurts wet her body while he groans into her flesh.

Elisa levers herself up, looks down. She’s covered in his love. His brilliant white milt, for all that it clings to her air-exposed body, dissolves after an instant in the water. She strokes it into her skin, marveling. She ought to want to come again, but she’s giddy, her throat is glowing. Upright doesn’t feel right. She slides off him and topples over to lean on her right side in the tub.

The creature turns around and joins Elisa, his bioluminescence lines soft and golden. His face is beside her chest, radiant with his slightest, most otherworldly of smiles. Elisa wipes her face of his come and her own very smug smile to lavish his submerged forehead with adoring kisses. He wraps a hand around her hip, pulling her close. She laces a leg over him. Her hair is, amazingly, mostly dry for once. Maybe it’s been an hour since she got in the tub? She should take the wet lingerie bits off. In a moment.

They’re fitting together so perfectly, his shoulder slime-silky under her trailing fingers. Elisa decides she’ll rest here with him for a while longer. Her left hand settles over his heart. Her eyes drift closed. She feels deliciously drained, wickedly pleased with herself, adrift in love. It’s so nice that with him, like this, she can stop thinking for a while. Just be. If she naps a little…it’s…all…right…

_His mind cycles back to composed thought. She is with him, resting against him. He has forgotten fear and treachery. Her cave is cold and cramped and wrong-many-ways. He knows himself weakened here. For the bliss of this closeness, their mingled scents and her relaxed joy, he will endure that forever. Sleep calms her hummingbird quickness. She resonates with complex dreams. She is with him as the light changes and the water cools. She is. There is only the barest awareness of time with her, with her, with her._

It takes a moment for the sound of the alarm to pierce Elisa’s head. Her ALARM. It’s dark out. Sunday night - she has to get to work! Elisa leaps away. She’s freezing. She drags on a soggy towel, flicks on lights, and dashes to the fridge. Her first thought is food for him, fish to start. She also throws some eggs in a pot on the stove, whirls the timer. She needs to run over to Giles’ and shower. Sopping footprints trail her everywhere.

Elisa brings the creature his fish and signs: _must go out soon, back sun rise_. She keeps losing track of what she’s taught him. It’s so hard to leave. He’s sitting up, quiet, dark, nearly brooding. Giles would say tame but – she’ll think about it on the bus. It’ll be hard to not have an attack of silent giggles when she sees Dr. Hoffstetler today.

Elisa pauses in the bathroom doorway to peel off the wet stockings at last. Her action sets the creature sitting up, alert. He blinks, clicks twice, lights up. And right when she strips a stocking away, he whistles.


End file.
